


Air to Breathe

by mforpaul



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Smut, Sonny looks like a lumberjack AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-12 09:29:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19943923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mforpaul/pseuds/mforpaul
Summary: Rafael gets stranded in the woods so he walks up to a lonely cabin where he finds a man chopping woods.Sonny looks like a lumberjack AU





	Air to Breathe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SoundWithinTheSilence](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoundWithinTheSilence/gifts), [FreckledSkittles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreckledSkittles/gifts), [nevadatrash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevadatrash/gifts).



> This is a gift to three unrelated people.
> 
> I wanted to gift this to soundwithinthesilence long before I decided to steal her Arby's line that she dropped off on Twitter, because it makes me so happy how happy Barisi fanfics make her.
> 
> This has to be a gift to Freckledskittles because she had the idea for a Barisi farm AU with a similiar set-up independently from me and because [she made Rafael come in his pants](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19208167/chapters/45665329).
> 
> And of course this is a gift to nevadatrash because I don't need a reason to gift her things.
> 
> *
> 
> The premise of this is easy. Rafael Barba is the way he is and Sonny looks like this: 

When Barba walks over the little hill and catches sight of the cabin, he immediately sees him chopping wood.

He doesn't see much of him. Only a whole mess of dirty blond hair shining in the setting sun and a terrible blue flannel shirt. Even from the distance Barba grasps that the tartan pattern is an insult to any person with a decent amount of taste who is damned to settle their eyes on it.

The man heaves the axe over his head and lets it fall down on a chunk of wood. Along with the raw sound of splitting wood Barba hears a little groan.

In his despair, Barba had walked up a forest trail. He doesn't want to put too much distance between him and the car and quite frankly, his feet hurt in the dress shoes he is wearing. The little path hasn’t looked like it leads into nothingness and Barba had actually detected fresh traces of a car, so he had taken his chance.

Maybe his work as a prosecutor for sex crimes should make him be more careful, but Barba tells himself to stay realistic. He is prosecuting the worst of the worst cases, so his chances of meeting an actual axe murderer out here in the woods are slim.

Barba sighs before he walks out of the shelter that the shades of the trees provide and approaches the man with a thrumming heart. He had considered him from the distance for a while, but had found no reason to run away. And he needs help, so here goes nothing.

The little wooden cabin is very tiny, looks primitive even but clean and inviting. Green grass forms the back yard where the man is doing his work. A big glass door leads from a small terrace into the cabin. There is no fence, not that it would be necessary in this loneliness.

Barba also doesn't know how he ended up here. He doesn't know how Rita had convinced him to come to Watkins Glen in Steuben County of all places he never heard of before. He doesn't know how he had ended up driving the rental car and he especially doesn't know how he ended up driving home earlier without Rita.

Barba tightens the grip around his briefcase. Coming closer, he studies the man chopping woods. Besides the terrible flannel shirt (when was this shade of blue in fashion?) he wears jeans, or at least Barba guesses that those dusty pants are denim, and terrible rain boots in a bottle-green color. Living in this mud Barba guesses they are necessary, he only hopes though that he will be able to save his 1.2k amble leather penny loafers after this ordeal.

His shoes touch the grass of the backyard, finally leaving the earthy woods behind only to replace them with mud.

The mess of dirty blond hair turns out to be such a mess not just because this hair hasn't seen a comb since the second inauguration of Obama but also because it's attached to a scruffy dirty beard.

"Hey, hello!"

The man stops swinging his axe when he detects Barba walking over to him.

Naturally he looks surprised seeing a person in the solitude of these woods, but a smile breaks through his behemoth of a beard all the same. It is a genuine smile, Barba immediately understands this much.

"I'm sorry to disturb your Friday evening, but I'm afraid I'll need some help."

Barba cannot help but feel relieved. This man, he estimates him to be in his early thirties, looks friendly. And something about his soft features around the eyes tells Barba that he can trust him.

“Don’t apologize, I’m happy about the surprise.”

“Okay.”

Barba looks at him for a long moment. He wants the man to elaborate on the “surprise”, but he can’t deny he isn’t distracted by the man’s eyes that shine so blue, so incredible blue, that they take Barba’s breath away. They are fixed on him sharply, yet full of kindness. Barba needs to lift his chin in order to keep himself from swallowing hard, but he thinks the simple gesture does the trick to hide that he had been staring.

“Okay”, the man repeats, apparently confused when Barba doesn’t keep talking and adds: “So welcome to my little house. What can I do you for?”

Barba blinks, the accent that embraces the words that leave his mouth is as ugly as his eyes are beautiful. His very pretty mouth, by the way, even the monstrosity of a facial hair cannot hide that fact.

Barba decides to give the man a moment to explain himself, take back the terrible line, but the smile that wrinkles his pillowy lips seems to be engraved there for eternity. The man doesn’t shy away from Barba’s unresponsiveness and, on the contrary, his face displays an oblivious kind of confidence.

Usually Barba feels no embarrassment about long silences but as there are actual crickets chirping in the background, he clears his throat.

“I don’t think I need to come in, if you could just give me a hand for a quick second.”

Barba points with his briefcase in hand vaguely behind himself. Although his sense of direction doesn’t allow him to actually know where his car is, he thinks that the man must have an idea of what Barba means.

"Don't worry, I’m not weird.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, saying that makes me sound weird, right?”

Barba tilts his head neither in denial nor in affirmation. Squirming a little is an unexpectedly good look on him. Barba notes a little flush on top of the man’s cheekbone. The blush has a beautiful rosy shade of pink, one that Barba immediately saves in the back of his mind so that he can find accessories in the same color. The beauty of this pink is only beaten by the pinkness of his full lips that the man, probably vexed about his own straightforwardness, purses into a delightful pout. A sudden jolt of excitement shoots through Barba’s body. If only this beauty wouldn’t be framed by this beard, this beard that Barba can only describe as ugly.

“I'm no recluse. Seriously.” The exaggerated hand gesture that underlines the last word is unnecessary, really, but Barba ignores that fact in favor of realizing how extremely slender his fingers are. “I actually like company."

Barba doesn’t get over the blueness of his eyes. They sparkle as if the sun had touched the ocean.

"That's good to know."

The man throws his head back exposing a beautiful long neck and laughs.

"Don't tell me you were afraid of coming up here.” Barba doesn’t reply quickly enough so the man continues: “I have manners and believe me, I couldn't even hurt a fly. Plus, I'm glad to help."

Barba narrows his eyes and shakes his head dismissively. The eagerness is too much, uncalled for basically and apparently the man doesn’t know when to stop talking but Barba cannot help but feel himself relax. Because he believes him.

"And the humor comes along with the firewood. Good to know."

"I'm a man with many talents."

Not just because of him winking needlessly, Barba knows that the man opposite him is flirting. And he is thankful for the lack of style, not just in fashion sense but also in sense of tact. Being so gauche makes Barba stop searching for attractive features in this probably handsome face that is hidden somewhere under that… thing.

"My car broke down a couple of miles down the mountain and my phone is dead. So I'll either need to kindly ask for your auto mechanic talent or a plug. Both preferably."

"A couple of miles?"

With an amused look on his face, the man leans his hip against the tree stump inadvertently showing off his lean figure. Barba notes that this man is a good head taller than him, height is an attractive look on him just as much as the gray streaks around his temple.

Not that Barba minds flirting, not at all, what is he if not a playful man? He just usually prefers advances from men with less facial hair. And nicer shirts.

He doesn’t have time for this anyway. It’s quite inconsiderate actually to hit on someone who needs help. Evening is approaching quickly and Barba really needs to return to the City.

"Yes, a couple of miles."

“Down the mountain?”

Barba tilts his head, giving the man a wry smile. He doesn’t really appreciate the attitude of parading around his woods expertise, obviously trying to show off how much better he knows about this stuff than Barba. Yet, there is something in the admittedly extremely sweet smile wrinkles around these beautiful eyes that tells Barba that the brusque brashness rather stems from ineptness than real arrogance.

“Yes, I’m a New Yorker. This is a mountain for me.”

“Alright, alright.” The man holds up two hands defensively. “Where’s your car?”

“As I said before. A couple of miles down the road.”

“Some people use cardinal directions for the sake of describing a, well, direction.”

“Some people use coordinates to describe an actual, well, location. Which doesn’t mean I’m able to use either.”

“So you stick with ‘down the mountain’? Can you at least find the way?”

“Yes, I can. Just… down the road.”

"Yeah.” The man considers him from head to toe which shouldn’t send a shiver through Barba. “You walked a couple of miles through the mud in those shoes?"

"Miles, yards. Whatever you want to call it. It felt like half a marathon."

The man grins and exposes a row of white teeth. It’s totally inappropriate and quite frankly annoying how much fun he has with Barba feeling like a damsel in distress. And while a distant scent of anger makes his heart pound, he cannot help but notice that the man’s hips are especially narrow.

"Let's see how far away your car really is. How much do your feet hurt?"

"I'm sorry that I don't own some of those highly fashionable rain boots."

The man raises a brow and seems to bite back a retort. Again, these eyes! Why are they so blue?

"Do you want my help or not?"

Barba knows he sounds like a snob, but he doesn't care. He had just spent a Friday with a bunch of Harvard Law alumni in a mountain hotel not being able to drink because he had to drive back to the City after not having been behind the wheels since the first inauguration of Obama.

Besides, he is one.

"I cannot be sure as I couldn't check my phone, but I think I walked like twenty minutes."

"I'd be surprised if you even walked one mile then."

He is still smiling while Barba only raises a brow. Smug is a game he knows how to play well. Surely better than this young man opposite him.

"What happened to your car?"

"It broke down."

"Yeah, but why?"

"If I knew that I might not need any help."

"If you don't give me more information I might not be able to provide you any help."

"Look, it doesn't drive. That's all I know."

Barba is beyond annoyed. Not just by the man’s misplaced patience but mostly by all the attractiveness he seriously starts expecting underneath the hideous surface. Out of habit he checks his phone only to get more annoyed about it being out of charge.

He needs coffee. More so, he needs Scotch. And New York City.

After his little fight with Rita who stayed behind on the off-chance to sleep with one of their former (by the way married) professors, he is in no mood to also argue with a man who looks like a lumberjack.

"Is it the engine?"

"Well, the car doesn't drive so the engine isn't doing its job."

Barba rolls his eyes at the obvious logic, this also makes him miss to see the man’s lips twitch. Barba shifts his weight and spends a second fidgeting with the handle of his briefcase. The man in turn takes in a deep breath.

"The car usually warns you before something goes wrong. Did the engine light turn on?"

Barba moves his corner of the mouth up, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. To be honest, he had been too busy following the navigation on his phone to check out any lights. Needless to say that Google maps had failed him, leading him to turn into the wrong road where the lack of service had started to make that little circle on his display spin and spin without aim.

But he wouldn't admit defeat to this eremite know-it-all.

"Not that I recall."

"You didn't run out of gas, did you?"

The man crosses his arms in front of his chest, trying all in all a little too pointedly to keep a straight face.

Very strong arms.

"No, but thank you for assuming that I can't read the gas light."

Barba knows better than to show his bafflement on his face. But he doesn't think so. The tank was full when they had stopped at the the last gas station on the way here to take a break. It should have been enough for the whole trip.

Cockiness or rather the attempt thereof is a good look on the man.

Barba soothes his viridian Paisley patterned tie that he had gotten for sale at Calvin Klein’s. The reunion was supposed to be a casual get together at some alleged lux mountain resort and they all had worn formal dress code. Where's the sense in that? Not that he owns anything that people on an alpine pasture wear. But he wouldn't have minded to go shopping.

"Okay, let me get my tools and then we can go to your car. I'll have a look at it."

The man must have suddenly found a zest for action, because he pushes himself away from the wood stump. The axe stays pinned into the wood and Barba spends a moment too long staring at the man’s crotch.

"Go? As in walk? Can't we use your car?"

The man eyes Barba in his silver-blue suit. The look is not condescending, even with the wide grin on his face. No, although noticing how out of place Barba looks here at his cabin in the woods, he instinctively knows that the man likes what he sees.

"This is not the city. No cab service here."

"We're well into the 21st century. People use Lyft."

The man lifts the corner of his mouth into a crooked smile.

“Lyft doesn’t operate here.”

With one last look at Barba he puts his hands in his pockets and walks past him to his cabin.

Leaving Barba behind standing on the grass in a 2k suit with no clue.

Barba bites the inside of his cheeks and moves his head to the side, catching himself at the last moment to not look after the man.

He comes on strong. Barba senses that this is probably the reason why people don’t get along with him. Maybe this is even why he chooses to live here in the seclusion of nature, Barba thinks. That would be too bad, because underneath all that terrible attitude he expects the man to be bright, quite snarky, and most of all extremely kind.

For lack of options, Barba follows him.

The man is waiting at the glass door that he is holding open for Barba and gestures him inside. Mumbling a quick “thank you” Barba steps inside.

The inside of the cabin is very small, unlike Barba's Manhattan apartment though not in a restrictive but in an extremely cozy way. There is a very fluffy couch, a fireplace and an open kitchen area with a quaint pizza oven. Barba notes that the kitchen, unlike the rest of the cabin, looks very well staffed.

"Mind if I plug my phone in to charge? Then I might not need you and your, uh, tools."

"You think I have electricity?"

"You don't?"

"Hey, we're well into the 21st century. Even cabins have electricity nowadays."

Barba sends him a withering look and doesn’t comment on the retort. He knows that this is what the man wants after all.

"You can use this plug over here." The man points to the kitchen island. "I'll get my tools. Just in case you're not lucky with the service here."

Barba looks at him with eyes widened in shock.

The man just shrugs his shoulders. “One of the few disadvantages of being up here. Bad service. But let’s get going before…”

The man jerks his thumb over his shoulder indicating to some door in the back of the cabin.

Contrary to his announcement though, the man doesn't leave. He lingers too long. Looks at Barba too long.

The inside of the cabin is just as chilly as the evening air outside, but suddenly Barba feels very warm on the inside.

Because he notices the man's gaze flicking to his lips.

It's been a long time that someone looked at him like this.

Not that there's no one attracted to him, Barba is not peacocking around for no reason, but these blue eyes had just turned a shade darker and display such a pure and honest desire that Barba’s mind is in danger of being blown away.

Barba smirks. Full of smugness.

It's just that this beard is thwarting every chance of real attraction.

Or maybe it's that flannel shirt.

"Thank you."

Barba said this much, using his more authoritative tone to indicate to him that he is dismissed.

Without another word Barba turns around to the kitchen island. He takes the charger out of his briefcase and leans forward to the plug. He knows the way that his body is stretching is showing off his most presentable features, namely his buttocks, and he hears the man behind him clearing his throat.

 _Good,_ he is making an impression on him.

The man disappears through the back exit (or is it the front door and the terrace is the real back exit?) and is gone for not even two minutes. Enough time for Barba to realize that the little service he has is not enough to call the company that's renting the car. Or anyone for that matter.

"Any luck?"

"As one of your talents is to foresee so, no."

"Okay then, we should hurry up. It's getting dark really soon."

"Doesn't your phone have any service?"

"I can send a message sometimes when I’m in the backyard, but it's cloudy today. I don't think you'll be lucky."

 _It’s cloudy today?_ Barba tries not to show how terrified he is by that statement.

Barba tosses his phone on the counter, right next to where he had placed his briefcase. With a sigh he leans with his back against it. He looks at the man standing a little ungainly in the middle of his small living room with a box of tools in one hand.

"And you have no landline?"

"Hey, it's the 21st century. I think landlines were given up somewhere around Obama's first inauguration."

 _How brazen_ , Barba thinks.

And he likes it.

Barba crosses his arms in front of his chest and looks at the tall, well-built man in front of him.

He needs a haircut. And new clothes. And these rain boots need to go. Actually, Barba is sure that this giant tartan of the shirt is going to turn his eyes blind if he looks at it any longer, but maybe he cannot expect everyone to wear fine patterns like the one on his own 250$ shirt.

Something inside of Barba is smoldering though. There's _something_ about this man that makes Barba want to _tease._ That wants to make him squirm, Barba is one hundred percent sure that he would try to prove himself. He would be very eager. And full of enthusiasm. Maybe he would blush.

And how deep would that blush go?

Barba slightly bites into his bottom lip.

He watches the man’s Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows.

“So shall we go?”

He asks almost shyly. Where the sudden shyness comes from Barba doesn’t know but he happens to like his voice. It’s deep and his accent spits out the words like dirt.

“Sure. But I still think we should take your car. We don’t want to ruin my shoes.”

Barba takes a step forward, his viridian eyes are fixed on the man and indeed he observes him sucking in a sharp breath.

“Okay, alright. It’s just that-”

Barba comes to stand in front of the man.

“What is it?”

“I see we should hurry up before dark, but-“

The man licks his lips and Barba couldn’t be more delighted.

“But what?”

They shouldn’t stand so close.

“We would need to-“

Barba could pretend that it was the both of them. That they leaned into each other until their lips met. That the tension just exploded. That they were drawn to each other like magnets.

But the truth is that it is Barba. It is Barba who steps forward to close the last remaining distance between them. It is Barba who goes on tiptoe and places a hand at the back of the man’s neck to pull him in.

To Barba’s defense, the man doesn’t flinch for even a second. He lets out a muffled moan into Barba’s mouth and relaxes into Barba’s body in a heartbeat. His hands shoot up to Barba’s shoulders, grab them to pull him even closer.

The man’s lips feel incredibly soft, but nothing about the kiss is gentle.

Their lips part, tongues invade each other’s mouths. They can barely breathe through their noses as the heat of the moment forces them to desperately drink hungry kisses from each other.

The man shows the passion Barba had expected and steps forward, thereby pushing Barba quite harshly with the back against the counter of the kitchen island.

Barba groans.

 _Yeah,_ this is exactly what he needs.

“Sorry, you okay?”

He mumbles between kisses, but Barba only uses the moment the man pulls his tongue out of his mouth to suck at his bottom lip.

The sweet declaration of surprise in form of a moan that the man gives in response is absolutely thrilling. It sends a shiver down Barba’s spine and shoots right into his dick.

Barba even finds himself to like the sweet tingle of his beard.

He bites a little into the man’s bottom lip to get rid of this particular thought, a little too harsh maybe, but again the man only responds beautifully with a moan.

The ideas he has for this man need to be made true.

So Barba’s fingers find the buttons of that damned flannel shirt and do what has been long overdue. They quickly undo them. Not that he thinks that they deserve this amount of consideration in this moment, or at all. As fast and as sudden sanity is slipping away from him, not ripping that shirt off feels like one last move before he’d eventually surrender.

Barba pushes the shirt over his shoulders, realizing that the man himself doesn’t know what to do with his hands. They just wander all over Barba’s body, grab, stroke but do not quite find the right grip to get him out of any of the way too many layers he is wearing.

It doesn’t make Barba feel any less desired. Quite the opposite actually, the clumsiness and incoordination of the whole approach to this situation flatters Barba in all the right ways.

The man is weird, he is sweet, he is nervous.

And somewhere between demanding kisses, aimless hands and lost gasps Barba happens to find the whole mixture extremely attractive.

“Can I?”

Barba nearly laughs. How adorable of him to be polite in this moment. The man’s shaking hands fiddle at Barba’s clothes. Barba takes mercy on him by helping him to shove his own jacket over his shoulder, throwing the fine piece of cloth carelessly somewhere to the stone floor of the man’s cabin. His suit is too expensive to be treated that way but special situations require special means. And getting naked is of great importance right now, just as setting the right mood and thereby spirit. And the man’s hands, grabbing him a little tighter by his biceps, finding a more explicit path down his sides, surely understand Barba’s gesture.

All the more disappointed Barba is to find an undershirt underneath the terrible flannel. Who wears a fucking undershirt these days? Barba does, but he is a good deal older than the man.

The undershirt is already damned with sweat, because of the man’s earlier wood chopping or the heat of the moment Barba doesn’t know. He certainly likes to believe the latter but it’s not of importance because the shirt joins Barba’s suit jacket on the floor.

This is when Barba realizes the scent of the man. He smelled like a fucking god. The saltiness of the sweat instantly tingles the inside of Barba’s nose but he also distantly detects a scent of soap, lavender probably and Barba cannot wait to smell, to taste more.

Without any ado his hands therefore find the man’s crotch and start fumbling with his fly.

“Oh my god!”

The man’s hot breath is directed skywards as he sends an incredulous glance up there and is immediately replaced by Barba’s against his throat that he exposes in his pleading gesture.

Barba doesn’t waste the opportunity given to him so freely and willingly and his open mouth caresses what it finds. His tongue though doesn’t give the delicacy of the man’s throat so much leniency and presses flat against the sensitive skin. Feeling the Adam’s apple bop up and down when the man swallows hard.

“You’re okay?”

Barba’s hands brush the man’s erection through the thick fabric of the denim. He stalls some time opening the button and the zipper too slowly because Barba needs to make sure that they are both on the same page.

“Yeah, this is… wow!”

Barba is sure they are, but verbal confirmation would make this whole experience even more enjoyable.

“If there’s anything you don’t want to do, say so, okay? We can stop anytime.”

Barba’s breath pants against the beard. He hadn’t had a good look at the man’s bare torso yet and his own cock is desperately thrumming inside of his pants.

“Yeah, sure. Same for… uh.”

Barba couldn’t help himself, but sucks at the man’s pulse point. He wants to mark this whole beauty that is this neck. Not even the beard that tickles against Barba’s face can ruin the perfection Barba has found here. Somehow Barba just wants to ruin him. He can basically feel the potential that the zealous desire of this man promises.

These nervous hands, with every move they do as much as they don’t know what to do, they do all the right things.

“Same for me, yes.” Barba kisses along his sternum. “You will be able to say when we need to stop, right? Can you do that?”

“Yeah, of course. Informed con- uh, fuck!”

Barba had bitten in his shoulder, not hard, but he had needed to do it.

“Is that alright?”

“Fuck yeah, go on. _Please.”_

Barba pulls his head back to catch the man’s expression. He is very obviously nervous, but not even the monstrous beard can disguise the blush on his cheeks or the trembling lips. He understands Barba’s unspoken question and nods.

The beauty of these eyes had turned into a darker shade of blue like an ocean turmoiled by a storm. Nervousness might have a good hold on him, but surely not the upper hand. And underneath the shadow of lust on his face Barba couldn’t make out any signs of fear or discomfort. _Good._

The pants are undone and Barba pushes them down. His hands are now free to wander over the man’s torso, deliberately ignoring the man’s hard dick in his underwear. In stark contrast to the scruffy and messy hair all over this man, the skin seems soft and delicate, almost sweet.

Barba’s mouth finds his again, claims his again. The man lets his tongue slip, Barba is happy about how sloppy and wild he is willing to kiss. That is just the way he likes it. Barba wants to get dirty. Sweat, saliva and sperm. This is exactly what Barba needs on his skin this evening.

“Uh-oh!”

Barba has found a hard nipple. His exploring hands find the man to be strong built, the muscles feel strong yet are covered under soft flesh. Barba finds a burn scar on his chest which somehow makes the whole beauty even more apparent, a scratch of vulnerability within perfection.

The man’s skin happens to be extremely pale so that the traces of Barba’s kisses shine in a red color against the marble skin for a few short seconds until they disappear and remain as a sensation of which goosebumps are only a reminder. The sight stuns Barba impossibly. Pure arousal shoots through his veins and Barba doesn’t know what he wants more, to hurry this along or stay forever in the moment.

His teeth scratch over the skin of the man’s biceps. He pinches the nipple between his fingers. All the “oohs” and “ahs” that escape the man’s lips are a pure treat and suddenly Barba feels like only feeling and touching is not enough. He makes quick work of his own shirt and undershirt. The man awkwardly grinds his hips back and forth, half into thin air as Barba is trying to undress himself.

His mouth finds Barba’s again, but his hand violently breaks the kiss he himself had initiated as it grips Barba’s hair at the back of his head and pulls.

“Yeah, that’s it.”

The grip the man has on Barba’s hair stings on his scalp and this happens to be exactly what Barba needs this evening.

The man kisses along Barba’s jaw and again Barba cannot deny that the tickle the scruffy beard leaves behind on his skin is delightful. The tickle expands over his skin like pins and needles.

Barba is finally freed of his clothes safe for his boxers and pants around his ankles. There he is nearly naked but he doesn’t feel any less hot. Quite the opposite actually.

Barba pushes his fingers underneath the waistband of the man’s boxers (Barba cannot help, but distantly note that they are of a similarly hideous tartan pattern, only in a different shade of blue, a worse one if that is even possible and still probably the least offensive one out of a three pack on sale. Luckily, naked is exactly how Barba wants him.) and pushes.

Barba feels the man’s cock spring free. It slaps against Barba’s hips and this is the moment where the man probably without his own volition bites into Barba’s jaw. Barba realizes it for what it is, a short moment of comprehension between all the overwhelming ones.

Barba allows him to feel slutty, not just that there’s no need to deny this is exactly how Barba wants him, and adorns the man’s little outbreak with an appreciative groan.

“Do you have supplies?”

“Uh, uh…”

The man’s tongue slips all over Barba’s smooth jawline, showing no shame about how wet his sloppiness is. He takes another step forward, pinning Barba even harder against the countertop. His grip in his hair loosens only hesitantly.

“I only have lube.”

Barba smirks (to the men’s defense he wasn't expecting any company), but the man can’t see it because he finds Barba’s left ear and is firmly nibbling at his ear lobe. Barba’s dick just twitches.

“I think I have a condom in my briefcase.”

Of course Barba doesn’t want to turn away, he wants to let the man keep doing what he is doing and as messy as he is doing it - but where’s the fun in that? He turns his back to the man rather abruptly. He basically feels the air leaving the man’s lungs, the muffled protest and him nearly falling over himself at the sudden loss of touch.

Barba crowns his tease when he stretches out for the briefcase on the kitchen island. It’s right in front of him, yet he moves as if it was miles away. This leads to Barba pushing his butt back against the man’s crotch. Barba knows it’s a bitch ass move, but he wiggles his ass, rubbing it against the man’s erection. The moans the man answers with make Barba wonder for a second if he is going to come already. That would have been adorable, but only a second later he feels two large hands cup his butt and Barba understands that they are still on track.

“Oh sweet jesus!”

Barba smirks at the blasphemy. It surely comes from deep down, but before any conclusion can come to his arousal misted mind Barba groans in appreciation at the appreciation the man bestows on him. He basically kneads Barba’s ass and this is exactly how Barba wants to be touched.

He should be _adored._

And Barba cherishes the enthusiasm with which the man is doing exactly that.

The only problem about all this appreciation is that this doesn’t really help him with finding that fucking condom. Just when Barba finally manages to open his briefcase the man pushes down his boxers and Barba suddenly feels his bare ass touched.

“Yes!”

“You’re so fucking hot. Man, I can’t believe it.”

Barba smirks again at this weird attempt at dirty talk and maybe Barba should be happy that he had refrained from saying “dude”. In the end though, the man’s clumsiness is all and all sweet for all the right reasons.

The fireworks going on under his skin do their deeds to distract Barba from the priority task on his hands right now. He searches inside of his briefcase for the stupid condom. He knows it must be somewhere on the sides, probably in one of those small pockets where people are supposed to put their mobile phone but how can anyone think in that moment when he feels the man slapping his butt with his hard prick.

“Fuck,” Barba pants. Any file he wanted right now, he would find in no time.

“You’re sure you have one?”

Barba wants to roll his eyes, but remembers that the man can’t see it. He’s not the only one who wants to fuck after all.

“Just be patient for fuck’s sake. You’re distracting me- ah!”

The man had slapped his ass shamelessly.

Barba looks over his shoulder with a fair amount of surprise because the slap burns. What Barba finds is a pair of piercingly blue eyes set on him. The man bites his plush lips and looks at Barba inquiringly. There is absolutely no sign of discomfort on the man’s face, just bright curiosity and this only turns on Barba even more.

Barba smirks and nods in response. He wonders what else he could tickle out of him.

Finally, he finds the condom. He had put it in his briefcase earlier this morning because, well, Rita is not the only one who goes to alumni meetings with expectations. In a confident swirl Barba turns around and holds it up in front of the man’s face. The man basically whimpers in response. He pushes Barba back against the counter, crashes their lips together in pure desire, his hands hold a firm grip-

“This leads nowhere without your lube.”

“What?”

The man pulls his head back, looks at Barba, baffled.

“Yeah, it needs a condom _and_ lube to fuck.”

Barba basically wants to cry out in delight when the man purses his lips, obviously disliking to be sassed. And Barba leans forward to quiet any possible retort with a searing kiss.

Fuck, this beard feels actually good.

The man’s hands wrap around Barba’s wrist, harder than necessary as Barba of course follows him, yet as hard as the moment demands.

Besides he’s too old to fuck on a kitchen counter.

How they manage to keep balance while getting to the bedroom, Barba honestly doesn’t know. The man is basically tripping over himself or his own eagerness, Barba doesn’t know which one. All Barba knows is that he suddenly feels the soft bed at the hollow of his knees and naturally he sits down. His palms spread over the man’s stomach, holding him back from falling on top of him because there’s something that Barba needs to do first.

“Oh _fuck!”_

“What is it?”

Barba looks up to him through his lashes. This is the first time he gets a good look at the man’s dick and _fuck!_ He bites his lip, not for show but for pure compulsion.

Naked, the man actually looks quite presentable. Although not exactly buff the fine lines his muscles draw across the pale skin are of pure aesthetics. The beard and the messy hair have newly found their true purpose as they are now messy and dirty not by abundance but as a consequence of Barba’s curious hands and the dampness of sweat.

 _God fucking damn it, he is beautiful._ It is as simple as that.

And by all means of the word sexy.

“You’re big.”

“Wha- nah.”

The dumbfounded question dies on the man’s lips as Barba takes his impressive erection in his hand and looks up to him, expectantly and in feigned innocence (that the man totally buys).

“You’re very well hung.”

Barba just wants to die when he sees the blush immediately creeping from under the beard across the man’s chest.

_What the actual fuck?_

What a delight, how _dare_ he?

“I- uh?”

And he wants to answer. Isn’t that _cute?_

Barba ducks his head and closes his lips around him. The man lets out something like a chuckle and his hands find Barba’s hair in response, although Barba expects it’s more out of necessity to keep him on his feet than an actual gesture of desire.

“Oh. My. God.”

It is flattering how delighted he is by everything Barba is doing to him.

“That feels so fucking good!”

Barba is only momentarily confused by the fact that his pubic hair, compared to that monstrosity of a facial hair, is quite scarce, just as his chest hair, by the way, which is barely existent. First and foremost though Barba needs to taste him. His tongue flicks around the man’s cock and he tastes like sin and heaven the same time. Barba should have seen this coming. That this man is actually this gorgeous.

His dick is not just of an impressive size, but also has a nice girth and a delicately pink head. Barba begins bobbing his head up and down appreciating the length of it. He playfully touches the man’s balls, but unfortunately he needs to cut this short. He wants to literally choke on that beautiful example of a dick but the salty taste in his mouth and moreso the fireworks in his own crotch tell him to move on. As much as Barba wants to take his time with all these impressions, not just the anticipation but also the singularity of this occasion makes it necessary to choose priorities.

So he plonks the dick out of his mouth with a lewd sound. A mixture of spit and precum connects the tip of the cock with his lips. Barba licks it away rather obscenely because he knows the man is watching the whole scene with keen eyes.

Barba takes a few moments to appreciate the man’s V, his abs and everything he can reach from his position with his tongue. Barba’s hands in turn reach behind the man and give his butt a firm squeeze.

Barba looks up to him. He just pushes himself back onto the bed and bequeaths the man with a crooked smirk. He puts his feet flat on the mattress.

 _Can you do that?_ Barba doesn’t need to ask the question, because the man understands immediately. He turns a little more crimson and Barba is a little more besotted. If the man had expected this would be done to him, Barba doesn’t know, but he clearly shows no objection to Barba’s offer.

More clumsily than not, the man follows Barba on the bed. He reaches over Barba to grab for the bottle of lube which is already (or probably still) standing on the bedside table. Barba smirks at that, but a comment would kill the mood.

Barba’s whole body thrums in excitement. He is panting heavily and is torn between cursing the man for doing his own admiring and adoring him for exactly that. The man kisses down Barba’s body, bites his nipples and strokes his beard through Barba’s chest hair.

“You’re so fucking sexy, do you know that?”

Barba barely catches himself from giving a snippy reply but a warm shiver flows through his body all the same. Barba is not unaware of his charm which doesn’t mean that the genuine compliment by a pretty man a few years younger than him doesn’t flatter him.

It feels good. This feels good. He needed this.

Apparently though the man also isn’t in possession of a huge amount of patience because he enthusiastically kisses his way down. He places the back of Barba’s thighs in his palms and pushes them towards Barba’s belly. With his thumbs he spreads Barba’s ass cheeks apart.

The man spits on Barba’s hole.

It had come so sudden, so matter-of-factly and so confident that Barba bites his lips. His heart is hammering wildly against the inside of his chest. He feels overwhelmed with want for this man.

“Yeah, that’s right.”

The man groans at the small praise. Barba notices that immediately. There are so many ways Barba would be able to play with him-

Now Barba is the one who arches his back up with a deep groan.

The tip of the man’s tongue teases Barba’s hole for a few short seconds before it licks up to his balls that he sucks into his mouth. The man’s index finger circles around Barba’s entrance. Barba’s dick responds with twitching. Barba feels his lips trembling and a prickle in his fingertips and his toes that he hasn't felt in years starts forming.

“That’s good, that’s good. Work me open now, come on!”

The beard tickles against the sensitive skin of his thighs. It’s distracting and arousing at the same time and Barba didn’t even realize he ever wanted this.

“Oh!”

Barba arches up again. His balls are still in the man’s mouth when he feels a slick finger push inside of him. He hasn’t realized that the man had put lube on his finger and silently praises him for this. He welcomes the pressure inside of him.

“Is that good?”

“Go on!”

By the time the second finger pushes inside, Barba’s head spins. His hands fist the sheets. Sweat is leaking out of every pore of his body, moreover, everything is tingling and prickling.

“More!”

When the third finger is inside of him, the man starts searching for Barba’s prostate and soon finds the bundle of nerves. Barba feels warm all over. The man licks over Barba’s throbbing erection and Barba doesn’t know how he is supposed to last any longer.

Barba reaches out and buries his fingers in the messy hair. He fastens his grip and the man gives him an appreciative groan.

“Fuck me now!”

It is not quite a command but the demand is insisting, surely not nice in any way. The man understands the urgency as he lets go of Barba’s cock, he rests his cheeks against Barba’s thighs and looks up to Barba with his angelic face and the purest eyes. Barba wonders if he is doing this on purpose.

“You sure you’re ready?”

The accent twirls roughly around the words and Barba needs to close his eyes for a second to stay focused. It's been a while so a thorough preparation would be helpful, but Barba cannot, and does not want to for that matter, wait any longer to have that dick inside of him.

“I need you to fuck me.” Barba looks the man deep in the eyes before he pulls himself away from the fingers inside of him. And after he pushes the condom in the man’s hand he turns around on all fours.

He hears the nervous, yet assertive moves of the man behind him. The man tries to be quick. He squeezes the bottle, tears the condom open, and dribbles cold lube on Barba’s hole. Not in this order by the way, but Barba appreciates the eagerness.

“Oh my god, this is so…” _I can’t believe I’m doing this_. The only thing missing is that the man would say this much.

“Would you fuck me already?”

The man’s thumbs draw circles across Barba’s cheeks.

“Say you want me.”

 _What_? It sounds like hesitance and Barba turns around to make sure. The man has positioned himself in front of Barba’s entrance and only looks back at him with lust darkened eyes.

“You want me, don’t you? Say so.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Barba rolls his eyes and turns his head back. He doesn’t like to play games when all this is about having some fun and he surely won’t beg. So he wiggles his ass a little, he had realized after all how much the man responds to his butt.

And indeed, the man slaps him again across the cheeks. Again, it stings and again, Barba loves the confidence.

The pain is followed by tender kisses starting from the small of his back along his spine up to his shoulders.

“Because I want you so much, I cannot even begin to tell you.”

“Then don’t, just have me.”

Barba’s heart thrums against the inside of his ribcage like a drum. It is the way he is saying these things…

“You’re so beautiful. And _so_ hot, oh my god.” The man lets out a little chuckle while his nose nestles against Barba’s shoulder blades. “I just want to know if you want me, too.”

Barba closes his eyes. The desire is unbearable. The man, he is… a lot. And as uneasy as this comes along, it gives Barba a _thrill…_

He feels a hand closing around his jaw from behind, turning his head so that they can look at each other. The angle is poor, but still they catch each other’s expression.

“Do you want me? Please…”

From taking orders to demanding to pleading, this is too much. But isn’t Barba a man of extremes?

“I want you.”

“Yeah?”

“I want you to fuck me. And now, will you!”

And the man enters him in one smooth motion.

Barba hadn’t realized how ready the man was. Barba throws his head back and appreciates that the man gives him a moment to bottom out. He welcomes the feeling of this big dick filling him up. The pressure, the weight, the sweet burn. It all feels exactly right.

Barba feels a large palm on his shoulder blades, steadying him. Clearly waiting for him to tell him what to do.

“Yeah, go deep.”

The man angles his hips up, so that he can push inside as deep as possible.

Barba closes his eyes.

This feels fantastic.

The man’s hand slides around Barba’s shoulder to push Barba’s body firmer against his own hips, to push his dick deeper inside. And the other hand finds Barba’s hair again and pulls.

The sting doesn’t even feel like pain, it just feels like the rest of the burning desire running through his veins. Incredible and exactly right.

“Yes, be rough.”

And the man is exactly that. He starts thrusting into Barba with absolutely no mercy, just as Barba wishes.

And the world starts to fade out around them.

The man sets an impossible pace. Barba would feel that all week and he is happy to know that he would have a reminder of that unexpected encounter. The raw sound of skin slapping against each other, moans out of both their mouths - all these impressions make him shiver. Barba doesn’t know how long the man would be able to keep up his fast thrusts. Bless his youth because Barba hasn’t felt this good in ages.

“Is that good?”

Barba nearly snorts. This is the fuck of a lifetime and he damn well knows that the man knows so, too.

“Keep going.”

“Do I make you feel good?”

While Barba feels compelled to refuse him the praise as long as possible, reassurance is obviously what he needs.

“You’re doing so good.”

It is actually not easy to speak when being fucked so hard.

“Yeah, you… you feel so good. You’re so tight, so hot. I wanna-“

The blood rushes in Barba’s ears. All he feels is that dick pushing in and out of him.

“Can you take it?” Barba relishes how hoarse the man sounds, how much he adores him. The man’s hands fly to Barba’s hips and hold him in an iron grip, way harder than necessary. “Can you take my big dick?”

“Oh you…”

“’Cause you feel so fucking good, I never want this to end.”

“Oh, don’t you dare stop!”

“You close?”

Barba’s hard erection, untouched and throbbing, bops up and down between his legs. The man’s prick brushes his prostate. Barba senses that the man hasn’t pulled out all of his moves yet, and Barba’s crotch feels dangerously warm.

And as if he read his thoughts, the man repositions himself only to restart fucking into him with the same fast pace. This time though the angle is right to hit his prostate more directly.

“Oh you fucker.”

Barba feels the orgasm rolling up from his toes. He wouldn’t need much more to be pushed over the edge.

And while Barba knows that being fucked roughly from behind is his wish, he immediately knows that when the man pulls out, turns Barba on his back and locks eyes, it is all him. He confidently guides Barba’s legs to wrap around his hips. The man cups Barba’s face and kisses him. Thoroughly.

The kiss is intense, if Barba hasn’t felt like drowning in the feeling of this dick fucking him he surely feels like it being soaked into this kiss now. The man’s lips are soft, his tongue insistent, and his beard scratching Barba’s face is rough.

Barba nearly protests when the man breaks the kiss. He then puts their foreheads together and catches Barba’s gaze with his blue eyes. It is… _intense._ It is very intense, but Barba finds himself not to mind (enough). He just gives himself into the stare of those eyes. They are for sure one of the most beautiful things Barba has ever seen in his entire life. They are so bright and so blue and in this moment, pupils blown wide by lust, overcome by desire they really look like a storm has come over the ocean.

The pace is now slower, yet somehow not a friction less passionate. The man’s hips roll fucking inside of Barba, pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

“You like that?”

Barba moans. It is too intimate for him, but he cannot look away. These blue eyes had trapped him and hold him safe at the same time.

“You do like that, don’t you?”

Barba feels the beard tingle in his face again. The man had leaned down and licks with the tip of his tongue over Barba’s trembling lips. Barba closes his arms around the man’s strong back, holding onto him as hard as necessary, at the same time feeling the need to cherish his strong back, so Barba’s nails scratch along the skin.

“You look so fucking beautiful like that, letting me do this to you.”

Before Barba can stop himself he grabs this beard and licks inside of the man’s mouth. He pulls the man a little closer, wraps his legs a little tighter and this gives the man the right angle to hit Barba’s magic spot.

Barba doesn’t know how he's been able to last this long at all.

Barba presses open mouth kisses across the beard in search for the man’s long neck. And while he listens to his orgasm approaching, he buries his face there.

“Did I fuck you speechless?”

It is just that Barba simply doesn’t want to speak. The situation is perfect as it is. He pants with every thrust and holds onto his dear life to that man.

“I’m gonna make you come, I’m gonna make you feel so good. Like no one did before.”

Barba feels the warmth forming from a spot, somewhere in his crotch, from underneath him maybe. All the pins and needles prickling from the tips of his toes and fingers, from his trembling lips and maybe even from the tingle that the man’s beard has left all over his body shoot to his middle and combine in this spot, this spot of warmth. The warmth starts spiraling gradually, stronger and stronger, spreading back through his body.

“You feel so fucking good, and you’re so hot. I can’t believe I get to have you. You’re so slutty and so perfect. I-“

And the world closes around Barba.

The warmth embraces Barba and he understands that he is lost. But he feels good.

It is as if all the pins and needles on his body explode, tease him with small electric jolts. And the only coherent thing Barba can grasp right now is that the man fills the barrier between them. He doesn’t know where he is, not even if he is between the earth and sky. He is under that man, this man whose weight feels so warm and reassuring on him. Barba squirms in incoherent movements as his orgasm is rolling over him. The climax is intense, just like the man and if it has ever felt this good, Barba doesn’t remember.

Slowly the impressions around him start to make sense again. Barba hears the groan of the man on top of him, he feels his head dropping onto his own shoulder, the hot breath of the man rolls against his sweaty skin in waves. Barba smells his scent, how much the both of them smell like sex. Suddenly Barba feels the ache in his hips, he realizes how sore he is.

Barba decides to not care for a while. He closes his eyes and doesn’t move. He holds on to the warmth a little longer. His mind is in this comfortable state on the edge of drifting off, but his skin is full of memories of where he was touched and grabbed.

Barba feels the mattress shift underneath him. The man’s soft dick slips out of him. The man between his legs sits up and this is when Barba tries to move. He doesn’t really want to but his joints feel stiff so he stretches his legs, only to decide that having them stretched out is enough and he quickly closes his eyes again.

He notices that the mess on his stomach is being cleaned up, the bed dips down again when the warm body presses back against his side. A bedsheet is quickly wrapped around his hips.

Barba opens his eyes to look at the man who has a pleased smile on his face. He watches him out of his bright, blue eyes and Barba curses himself to notice again in such close proximity that he really is very beautiful.

“That was… great.”

The man whispers, maybe he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to talk into the silence of the moment, and quite frankly, it is so obvious that Barba sees no need to say it out loud at all and something in him makes him hesitant to give the man the praise he deserves.

While he considers the man he thinks about how thoroughly spent he feels and how he wants nothing else than a glass of Scotch and to sit on his couch. Too bad, that his couch is far away in Manhattan.

“Was it good for you?”

Barba lifts the corner of his mouth and forgets for a moment how intimate this is. The two of them lying next to each other with their faces only inches apart.

It was perfect, as simple as that. Barba hasn’t been willing to be bold in a long time and this feels exactly right. The man had given him a very unique kind of thrill and Barba cannot help but feel absolutely satisfied about this.

“It was very, very good.”

Simply for the sake of getting this over with, Barba decides to tell him the truth before the man would start nagging him about this. And the goofy smile that takes over his face is outright ridiculous.

“Yeah?”

“Yes. I’m sure you also enjoyed yourself.”

“Yeah.” The man snorts. “That’s an understatement.”

“Happy to hear.”

Barba needs to look away in order to collect his thoughts, but the man doesn’t quite let him.

“Because – and I hope you don’t mind me saying that so boldly, but – you’re really hot.”

And Barba allows himself to feel flattered and laughs.

“No objections. Be bold!”

The man pops up on one elbow and looks down at Barba. “At first I thought you didn’t like me.”

“Did I ever say I liked you?”

“Well, you slept with me.”

“So?”

“Come on, you cannot find me completely ugly then.”

“I never said that either.”

“But you looked at me like that.”

“Don’t try to defend that shirt, I basically needed to take that off you only to get it out of my sight.”

The man chuckles and with a low voice he adds: “I think you liked my beard though.”

“No!” Barba did, but only between his legs and in his face and at his neck, not to look at. “Believe me _no.”_

The man gently puts a hand on Barba’s cheek and this is when Barba starts to feel slightly panicked.

“You have beautiful eyes.”

Shit. Barba hates that this gets to him. The man is not just using some drawn out line, he actually means it. The man is too much for a lot of reasons but Barba senses that he is genuine in everything he does. And this simple compliment shouldn’t make his chest as warm as it does.

“Okay, before this gets to cheesy-“

And the man kisses him.

First he only presses his soft lips on Barba’s firmly. His tongue touches Barba’s bottom lip after that and from this point on the man’s tongue strokes confidently into Barba’s mouth. Barba feels like he is drowning all over again. The man is lowered over Barba still popped on one elbow, he doesn’t lean down fully to Barba though. Barba has to arch up his head in order not to lose the touch. Needless to say that Barba does exactly that because he doesn’t want to stop kissing him at all.

When did he start losing his mind?

Barba’s cheeks burn up but he still lifts up his head in hopes of deepening the kiss. To feel that scratch of the beard one last time.

The only thing that makes him finally stop (technically the man is breaking the kiss but Barba lets him) is that Barba couldn’t go again this soon.

“We need to go, I want to get back to the City at a decent hour.”

“I’m not sure if we can achieve that.”

“What?”

“Look outside, it’s dark!”

Barba sits up abruptly. The bedsheet around his hips fall down. Were they fucking for so long? How is this possible?

“How is this possible?”

“When evening approaches, the sun sets and it gets dark.”

Barba shoots him a punitive look, but omits commenting.

Instead he gets up and out of the bed in search for his clothes. His pants must be in the living room but he has found one of his socks.

Barba is sure he smells like hormones. He would love to take a shower but he needs to postpone that until later so that he doesn't lose any more time. Besides, he is not quite sure if the man has hot water and doesn’t dare ask, so one way or the other his own shower is the better choice.

“Hey, now that you’re about to say goodbye we might properly introduce ourselves?”

Barba barely looks up, the irritated look he sends him should suffice.

“I’m Sonny-.”

“I’m going to be out of here and the chances that we’ll ever run into each other again seem slim, so just leave it.”

“You can tell me your name.”

“It doesn’t matter now.”

Barba finds his second sock and leaves the man behind on his bed when he steps back into the living room. He doesn’t care to catch the man’s expression. They both got what they wanted, there is no need to deal with any more besides that.

Barba is dressed quickly. He unplugs his phone from the charger, only to realize that he still has zero service. He puts it into his briefcase and catches sight of the darkness outside. He feels stupid for not being able to deny his unease. Night hasn’t come over them yet, but the darkness of the woods looks so incredibly black that Barba would definitely prefer to not be outside there.

“Okay, let’s go.”

He turns around to the man who is standing awkwardly in his own living room. His arms crossed in front of his chest with his fingers thrumming against his own biceps. He doesn’t look like he is about to grab his toolbox and go at all. Barba gladly notes that the man had not put the flannel shirt back on, but had replaced it with a long sleeved shirt in a grayish color. Other than that he is wearing sweatpants in a different, darker grayish color. He looks more ready to hop back into bed than head out for repairing cars of stranded New Yorkers.

“What is it?”

“Look, I know you wanna get home. I get that, but even if it’s not that dark yet I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to see anything when we get to your car.”

“Fun fact about smartphones: You can use the flash light as a source of, well, light. This way even New Yorkers can see something in the woods.”

“Ha ha, very funny. But I mean it. It’s gonna be really dark by the time we get there.”

“Let’s take your car, we’ll be quicker. Where was the problem with that in the first place?”

“If you insist, we can. But it was raining throughout the whole week so the road’s pretty muddy. I was running some errands earlier the day and my truck nearly got stuck. And believe me, I’d rather not like this to happen in the dark.” Barba looks at him with wide eyes. “And while smartphones are really useful and all, I don’t know how much help they’ll be with wild animals.”

This is when Barba knows that he is not going to step a foot outside of this cabin. He is willing to deal with darkness and god is his witness he has dealt with the mud, but wild animals is putting a little too much into the mix.

“You can stay here if you want.”

Barba stares at him baffled all the same. Except for hotel rooms and his mother’s couch on Christmas he doesn’t remember when he has last slept in a bed that was not his own. The prospect of staying in this primitive housing with a man who looks like someone who is about to not get hired at Arby’s seems terrifying. Maybe he should reconsider the plan about the woods.

“Here?”

Barba’s voice is condescending enough. He doesn’t need to gesture to the simplicity of his surroundings.

“If you stayed, you know, we could do it again.”

“We don’t have any more condoms.”

“There are other things we could do.”

“What exactly do you suggest?”

The man lifts his two hands up defensively. “Look, if you want me to, I’ll try to help you. I really will, it’s your call. But I seriously think it would be safer if we just stayed here for tonight. And I promise you, first thing in the morning I’m gonna fix your car. For free by the way.”

Barba hates that accent nearly as much as his weird hand gestures. He snorts and takes another look out of the window.

“What kind of animals are out there?”

“Look, I’m not saying we’re gonna die out there. It might be all fine but there’s no need to risk it and going out there at this hour with the muddy woods would basically just be stupid.”

“Bears?”

“Yeah.”

“Seriously?”

“And like wild pigs.”

“Wild pigs?”

“They’re correctly called boars.”

“Are they dangerous?”

“They do have long horns.”

The man shrugs his shoulders and Barba wishes he would know more about the fauna of New York State to argue with him but this would be a lost cause.

“Isn’t your truck made for muddy roads?”

“You already slept with me. It’s really okay if you stay.”

Barba just looks at him. How come the man is able to hit the bull’s eye? Because of course even more than sleeping in someone else’s bed, Barba doesn’t want to sleep next to someone else. These blue eyes probably see right through him.

“You don’t usually do that, do you?”

“What?”

“One time hook-ups.”

“Uh?”

Sometimes Barba knows that he is an asshole. To turn the question back on him to distract from his own quirks.

“Because this was your first one. Don’t try to make it more than that.”

“It’s okay, it was fun.” It’s adorable how hard the man blushes, it kind of makes Barba want to kiss him again. Still, he disapproves of the characterization of what just happened as “fun”. “And yeah, I never… had that before.”

“Well, congratulations.” Barba shifts his weight. He holds onto his briefcase and despite knowing that he is trapped here, he doesn’t know what to do.

“But I still think you should stay. I promise I’m not trying to turn this into something. But I’d rather you be safe tonight.”

Barba considers him for a long moment. These blue eyes look at him in concern and while Barba still doesn’t see how this is supposed to work, he knows he would stay anyway.

Barba pouts all the same.

He puts his briefcase back on the kitchen counter.

“So I guess it’s senseless to ask for the wifi password.”

The man beams at him. Barba finds him sweet and somehow something in his chest relaxes. As much as he wants his own four walls and booze he thinks it might not be a bad idea after all to spend a night sealed off from the problems of the world and surrounded by bear housing woods.

“Nah, but I can make us some great dinner. Have you eaten yet?”

Barba is starving, actually. It might stem from his agitation from getting lost in the fucking woods because he was eating appetizers all day but he would eat one of those bears if he was served one.

“No, but I’m not that hungry.”

“Oh, you will be when you see my pizza. I made the dough yesterday…” And then he rambles on about how he had made the pizza dough. Barba sighs. He is lucky. He doesn’t want to think about what would have happened if he hadn't found that man’s cabin.

“Well, do your magic. If you don’t mind I would like to take a shower in the meantime.” Barba scrunches his nose. “I kind of smell like a horny teenager.”

The man laughs at that with all his heart and Barba’s heart skips a beat. The man throws his head back and exposes his neck that is full of bruises. Barba hadn’t realized he had sucked that hard. The man’s neck is basically one big purple hickey.

“Of course, the shower’s over there.” The man points to a door next to the bedroom. “The boiler should be full and I want you to be comfortable but still I’d appreciate if you kept it rather short. Hot water isn't endless here.”

The fact that there is hot water is all that matters to Barba.

“Thank you, and uhm-“

“I can give you some sweats if you want. I have clean ones.”

Whatever Barba had wanted to stay is swallowed by his outrage. He stares at the man with wide eyes.

“Oh, sweatpants are beneath your dignity?”

“There’s no dignity in sight when it comes to sweatpants.”

The man chuckles and shakes his head. “Just make yourself at home, okay?”

“Okay.” Barba swallows and his gaze follows the man rounding his kitchen island.

“Really, I just want us to have a nice evening. It must suck to be stuck here so I want you to at least have a nice time.”

“That’s very nice of you.”

“And uh, we don’t have to do anything, really. I didn’t mean to… earlier.”

“It’s okay.”

“Good.” The man quickly clears his throat. “So what pizza toppings do you like? I can tell you that the combination of peas and eggs is quite good.”

Finally, Barba laughs. Genuinely and from the heart. The man is right. Being stranded does suck and as much annoying habits this man seems to have Barba does feel comfortable around him. And this is not something that happens every day.

“I trust your judgement. You seem to know what you’re doing.”

“I won’t disappoint you.”

The smile of the man is basically blinding. Barba would never say so out loud but the amount of energy and the inexplicable happiness he displays makes Barba think of a labrador puppy.

The man points with his head towards the bathroom and Barba nods.

He lingers though.

He watches how the man takes a bag of flour out of one of the kitchen cabinets and retrieves a bowl with a kitchen towel from somewhere.

Barba clears his throat.

“And uh…”

The man looks up to him expectantly.

“Sonny is it, right?”

“Yeah, you can call me Sonny.”

“Thank you for letting me stay here.”

“Of course, I couldn’t let you go out there.”

“You said you would if-“

“Plus, I have to admit that I’m really happy to have a surprise guest.”

“Still, you’re really helping me big time here. I’d be very lost without you.”

“Anytime, anytime.”

“Thanks. So I’ll take a shower.”

“Will you tell me your name now?”

Barba who had already turned to the bathroom purses his lips. Not telling him his name in the first place seems childish now after the fact that he is forced to stay. He bites the inside of his cheek. He doesn’t want to give him more information as necessary as, spending the night or not, this is still just a onetime thing. But he has never been only a first name.

“Rafael Barba.”

“Wait, you’re Latino?”

“What? Another first?”

The instant blush on Sonny’s face tells Barba that he is right.

“No. Uh…” Sonny clears his throat. “You just don’t look-“ Sonny gestures with floured hands up and down Barba’s figure, but stops short. “I'm sorry I shouldn't have said that.”

Barba decides to let that slide. “Well, nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to all those people discussing English tenses with me!


End file.
